The Crawlettes
by Baron Munchausen
Summary: Another little story for the STEAMM day. This one is 1950s AU. The Crawlettes are a popular girl group. They have to deal with their Manager, over-amorous fans, and their driver, as well as the disapproval of their family (despite the money they are earning).
1. Chapter 1

_AU: late 1950s._

_The Crawlettes are a girl group, very popular in Britain: Mary and Sybil sing, while Edith plays the piano and writes the music. Mary knows that their old-style close harmony is fast going out of fashion; she wants to leave on a high, and presses for their next concert to be their last._

* * *

.

"No, no, no! And that's final!" stated Mary, ending the conversation.

"But why? And why now?" Edith continued, not accepting Mary's conclusion.

"I've said: we quit now while we're ahead because there's new styles coming out of America, roll'n'roll and suchlike, and we're old hat. It's better to accept that we've had our success and get out of the music business while they still love us, rather than carrying on until for a few more months or years until we can't give our records or concert tickets away. I won't outstay my welcome."

"Mary, Edith, please! Let's not decide this now. We've got the second half to do and we're all tired. Can we discuss this tomorrow, when we're all feeling less psyched up? Please?" Sybil was always the peacemaker, but today, she knew she wouldn't be able to continue singing as well as she knew she should if she was stood between her two older siblings darting angry looks at each other.

Anthony Strallan, their Manager, Promoter, Accountant, and General Dogsbody popped his head around the dressing room door, smiling encouragingly as usual.

"Five minutes to the second half. Everything alright in here?" There was a tangible cooling of the temperature in the room as The Crawlettes nodded at him, a bit distractedly.

"Well, I'll let you get ready. Let me know if you need anything now or for afterwards. I'll get Tom to bring the car around to take you to your hotel, say, an hour after curtain? That should be enough time to sign autographs and whatnot. You have a very big crowd tonight! Break a leg my wonderful ladies!"

He closed the door as Mary rolled her eyes.

"That man would be polite to Satan himself, I swear."

"And I suppose you think that's a bad thing?" Edith snapped back. She wasn't sure why she had started defending Anthony so vehemently lately. It worried her that she was so worried when people made fun of him.

"No one's saying Anthony isn't a gentleman, Edith" Sybil said automatically, although in truth she was thinking more about Tom and being driven back by him. Perhaps tonight she would have the courage to accept the drink that he always offered to buy her after concerts.

"He is a gentleman, I'll grant you. I just…well, I wish he would get angry at something…or someone…just occasionally. I think it would do him good!" Mary sighed. She was pleased to see Edith smile in acceptance of her apology and went back to fixing her already perfect hair. Matthew would be out there tonight. If he came backstage, perhaps…

* * *

.

"…_.I want you to make love to me…do!"_

The crowd erupted into cheering and applause. The girls had finished their third encore with one of their biggest hits, and one of the most syrupy, sentimental songs ever written, but late at night with the lights low, it was pure magic. It took five minutes but they eventually left the stage, accepted the congratulations of the stagehands, and made their way back to their dressing rooms to get ready for the next performance at the stage door.

"Mary" Sybil nodded her head to ask her to come into her room. When she'd made sure Edith hadn't noticed and shut the door she continued.

"I know you want to leave the spotlight while we are still on the crest of a wave…"

"Aren't we just?" Mary smiled delightedly. "Three encores!"

"Yes, it was wonderful…but remember for Edith it hasn't felt like this. She sits at the back playing while no one remembers that she actually writes the songs, while we get all the applause and fan mail. She wants to experience that…just a little."

"Well, perhaps she should become a concert pianist, and go solo!" Mary knew the comment was beneath her, but she was tired and it had been a long day. More to the point, she hadn't seen her favourite fan in the crowd this evening. Why hadn't he come?

"You know as well as I do that Edith isn't in that sort of league. She could no more become a concert pianist than you could sing at Covent Garden!"

"Then perhaps she could play with Donald Swann….oh, I'm sorry Sybil" Mary continued in a very different voice having seen her youngest sister's expression. "You know I do worry about Edith too. It would hurt her so much to try to carry on when all our fans have stopped listening to us and start listening to this chap called Presley, and people like him. Grandmama Martha writes to me that it is incredible the sort of passions he invokes: quite unbecoming."

"But…"

"You said yourself we should discuss it tomorrow when we are all feeling a bit more like ourselves, and I know you are right, darling. See you at the stage door in five." And with that she left to go to her own dressing room.

Sybil sat down in front of the mirror and began to take off her make-up in a half-hearted way. _She_ didn't want this wonderful time to end either. If they weren't performing and recording, why would they need to employ a driver? And she didn't think that she could bear another day without Tom Branson and his cheeky smile and his sexy Irish accent and turn of phrase. But Papa would never…

She was jolted out of her thoughts by the door banging open. In the doorway, swaying slightly, stood Larry Grey, his black tie hanging loose and his hair all awry.

"Sybil…d-darling…you were won-wonderful!" he slurred.

"Larry, you're drunk…again. Who let you in here? We banned you after last time, remember?" Despite her fright, Sybil attempted to be reasonable and calm with the excitable young man who had tried to kiss her (and more) three concerts before.

"They should pay your doorman m-more. He seemed very keen to take me…me money. Have a drink with me, Sybil, my love!"

"No, not tonight, Larry. You need to go home and sleep it off. Just…"

"NO! I want to spend the evening with you. I love you, sweetheart. I want you." Larry's mood had turned darker as he realised Sybil was trying to usher him out of her dressing room and out of the building. He dropped the bottle in his hand, which clattered along the corridor, and grabbed a handful of Sybil's hair, causing her to yell. Larry cut her off by kissing her. Even though she was pounding her fists on his chest, it didn't seem to register with him through his inebriation.

Just as suddenly as he had grabbed Sybil, Larry was violently pulled back away from her, as Anthony, who had heard the commotion and come to investigate, forced Larry's arm half way up his back, causing him to whimper.

"You! You need to learn some manners, you lout, and I will take great pleasure in being the one to teach them to you! Now out!"

"Un-h-hand me, S-Sir!" said Larry attempting dignity, and failing.

"Shut up, you little twerp. This is your final warning. Do this again, and I will get the police involved. Do you understand? I said, do you understand?"

"Ow! You'll break my arm!"

"I'll more than that. Back to the gutter with you."

Anthony frogmarched Larry to the stage door and let him go. Larry immediately swung back round and planted an awkward but still painful fist on Anthony's chin, before losing his footing and falling over in a drunken swoon.

Mary, Sybil, and Edith, who had followed the two men, stood open-mouthed watching Larry for movement and wondering whether they should do anything or just leave him there on the ground. Mary recovered first.

"Well, I know I said I wanted him to lose his temper, but that was quite impressive!" She turned to see Edith staring at Anthony with unabashed admiration in her eyes.

"Yes, it was!" she sighed. She saw Anthony put a hand up to his mouth and took a few quick steps towards him.

"Are you hurt?"

"He split my lip a bit, that's all. Nothing to worry about."

"No, come to my dressing room and I'll clean it for you."

The two of them left, Anthony muttering something vaguely threatening at the stage doorman as he passed.

Mary and Sybil looked around at the fans who had gathered to ask for their autographs, still standing in stunned silence watching their heroines. Mary stepped forward.

"I'm very sorry. This man attempted…he got into Sybil's room uninvited. We've all had a bit of a shock. I hope you will forgive us if we don't give autographs this evening, but please to write to our Manager and we'll make sure you all get something special. Thank you for coming, and good night!"

She took Sybil by the arm and guided her back inside, also speaking to the doorman.

"Will you make sure Mr Grey is put in a taxi to his father's townhouse please? We don't really want him littering up the street, do we?"


	2. Chapter 2

_**Sorry for the delay. I haven't forgotten the other stories that I have on the go, either. I hope you like this one.**_

_AU: late 1950s._

_Anthony, The Crawlettes' Manager has just thrown Larry Grey out of the theatre for trying to force himself on Sybil. Mary and Sybil are recovering in their dressing-room, each thinking of someone special: Mary is wondering why her favourite fan wasn't in tonight's audience, Sybil is looking forward to seeing their Irish driver. Meanwhile Edith sees to Anthony's split lip, caused by Larry's punch._

* * *

.

"Come and sit over here, by the light" said Edith, rummaging in her make-up bag.

"Really, please don't worry. It's nothing." Anthony was plainly embarrassed at the care Edith intended to shower on him.

"I'm sure it is, but I would feel better if we made sure. You were so…_heroic_ seeing Larry off like that."

"I hardly think…" Anthony began, but Edith cut him off with a wad of wet cotton wool.

"Let me look at you." Edith moved nearer to him, resting her hand on his shoulder so she could gently wipe his chin clear of a few drops of blood. Her breathing seemed to have stopped of its own accord, and she deliberately kept her eyes from meeting his.

"Open wide please" she asked, trying to sound jolly and matronly and failing. She looked at the tiny cut on his bottom lip…his lips…how she wanted to…

Anthony saw her looking. What had that Grey boy done that she…_oh god_, she's just_ looking_ at me…_no! _This can't be happening…she wouldn't look twice at _me_ in that way…would she?

Anthony's breathing, in contrast to Edith's, suddenly speeded up, as she dabbed delicately at his mouth. He instinctively licked his lips…she glanced up and saw the look in his eyes…and the world stopped turning for them both.

* * *

_._

"I'm fine, Mary! Just let me get my things together" Sybil complained for what felt like the tenth time.

"You've had a shock, Sybil. I think we need to get you back to the hotel and into a nice hot bath as soon as we can." Mary was dashing around the dressing room as though she were packing for a six-week cruise. Finally, Sybil had had enough.

"Matthew wasn't there, was he?...That's what's got you all wound up like a spring."

Mary stopped dead and sighed. When she spoke, it was quieter, unsure.

"No, he wasn't there. Oh Sybil, what if he doesn't like me after all?"

"I'm sure it isn't anything like that. Perhaps he just couldn't get away from court in time to get here. Or his train was delayed or cancelled. It could be anything. There'll be a message waiting for you at the hotel, perhaps?"

"Except that I've not told him where we are staying."

Sybil put her arm protectively around her sister's shoulders.

"You really like him that much?" she asked.

"I think I've liked him that much since he first asked for my autograph; I just didn't realise it. He's so different from all the others" Mary replied.

"All the other fans?"

"All other men I've ever met" Mary whispered. "I might not see him again. I don't even know where he lives. Just that his name is Matthew Crawley and he's a lawyer." _And I love him_.

Sybil looked at Mary. She wanted to say something comforting, but she also really, really wanted to get going so she could see Tom. Her pulse quickened at the thought.

"Look, if he doesn't turn up to the next concert…"

"The last concert…" Mary emphasised.

"…the last concert, then we'll set Anthony on to finding him" Sybil said with a smile.

"Anthony?" Mary quirked an eyebrow at the thought, but stood to pick up her own belongings.

"He was in intelligence during the War, you know, at Bletchley Park."

"Anthony? A codebreaker?" Mary was beginning to see it, although the thought of their Manager as a boffin…yes, it did make sense.

"And if he can do that, I'm sure finding a solicitor will not be a problem for him" Sybil concluded triumphantly.

"You're so good to me, Sybil. Thank you" Mary smiled.

They picked up their bags and Mary went to Edith's room to fetch her, opening the door without knocking.

"Edith, we're ready. Let's get back to the hotel, I'm all in" Mary trilled not looking but turning to follow Sybil down the corridor.

Her call jolted Edith out of her hypnotism, gazing into Anthony's eyes, cotton wool in hand.

"Oh, yes…yes, coming! See you tomorrow, Anthony!" She picked up her bag, and with a last look at the man sitting staring at her with a sad smile on his face she left the room.

"Good night, Edith, my dear—" the door banged shut "—est, my sweet one, my darling girl, my lovely, my heart, my own…"

* * *

_._

Tom was parked right outside the stage door, leaning on the Jaguar, waiting patiently. This job had started out well enough: driving a trio of well-behaved girl musicians around, hotel to theatre or concert hall and back again, and then on to the next hotel in the next town. He was paid a good wage, drove a wonderful car even if it wasn't his, and he wasn't expected to hang around night clubs at all hours waiting to take them back; they weren't those sorts of girls. They were ladies. But the job got a great dealer harder when he'd had to take Sybil around Dublin sightseeing, nearly two months ago now. It was his town, so he took her to the places he knew, not the tourist traps. They'd had a wonderful time, and it wasn't until he got back to his own digs that night, alone, that he realised what had happened. He'd fallen for her, his beautiful, darlin' girl. She was so much freer than her sisters, and more forward, more independent. She was full of _life_. But without any hint of malice, or humming defensiveness that he'd seen in the girls he'd known in his youth.

It had taken him another week to work up the courage to ask her out for a drink after one of their gigs. She had looked at him with sparkling eyes, but Mary had dragged her out of the car before Sybil had had time to form the 'yes' that was in her mind.

It took him another week before he tried again. This time, Sybil had said 'no', but said it was because she wasn't up to it after that concert.

Then he asked every night in the hope that one day…one day, she might say 'yes' and they'd reclaim that feeling that he hoped they had both had in Dublin's fair city; certainly it had been more than real for him. One day…

The stage door was opened and The Crawlettes emerged. Tom knew that they looked like this when they'd argued. He also knew something else was wrong. As he opened the car door for Mary he quietly asked if everything was alright?

"Yes, thank you, Tom." Mary was polite as always, and ice-cold, as only she could be.

Tom raised his eyebrows at Edith instead.

"Sybil…Larry Grey got into her dressing room this evening, and…"

"Him? Oh god! Sybil, are you okay?"

Sybil smiled at him, pleased that he cared and didn't mind saying so.

"I'm fine, thanks to Anthony. You should have seen him Tom. He could've been a bouncer!"

"If I see that Grey boy again, I'll thump his lights out, so help me I will!" Sybil could see that Tom meant it, and her heart warmed to a fuzzy happiness.

"She's alright, Tom. Just get us back to the hotel please."

They drove in silence, with Edith and Mary staring out of the window, and Sybil openly looking at Tom, who felt it and tried not to let it distract him from his driving.

When they arrived, Tom jumped out to open the doors, but Mary was out and already marching towards the hotel, Edith struggling to keep up with her, muttering something about the next day and the discussions they were going to have. Sybil took her time, waiting until they were both through the revolving door before getting out of the car herself. She stood up, looked at Tom's blue eyes, and waited.

"Er…I don't suppose that you would like me to buy you a drink, Miss Sybil? I know it's been a long evening for you." Tom stuttered to a halt, and looked up at the face that haunted his dreams, smiling at him.

"I would love that, Tom, tonight of all nights."

Tom's face slowly broke into a wide, jubilant grin.

"Let me park the car, and I'll be back!" Without a second's hesitation he leapt back into the driver's seat and screamed off, Sybil giggling at his reaction.


	3. Chapter 3

"So then we found Papa had invested all of Mama's fortune in some lame scheme in Canada. It folded and Papa lost everything. We had to find some way of earning some money, or lose Downton. I wouldn't have cared a jot, but it would have broken Papa's heart. He's very traditional; he would have felt that he'd failed all his ancestors and all his descendents as well. So Mary suggested we put on a few fundraising concerts of Edith's music, they were successful, and the rest you know."

Sybil took another sip of her spritzer, looking at Tom looking at her.

"So why's Mary so set on killing the golden goose now?" he asked, nursing his Irish Whiskey.

"She thinks we are about to be overtaken by the new rock 'n' roll from America, and I fear she may be right. I just hope Papa hasn't been thinking that the amount of money we send back will continue forever, because it won't. It can't."

"Your family…they never come to hear you. Why not?"

"They love the money, but they disapprove of how we earn it. Well, not Mama, she's American and she thinks what we've done is admirable, but Papa and his mother…Granny…they think it's vulgar."

"It's beautiful, is what it is!" Tom objected.

"Do you really think so?" Sybil asked, in her open, unaffected way.

"Of course I do" Tom whispered, "_you_…are beautiful."

Sybil reached out and touched his cheek. Tom stared, then turned to kiss her hand.

"I ought to get some sleep if we're going to discuss the end of The Crawlettes tomorrow morning."

"May I see you again, like this I mean?"

Sybil smiled at him.

"Oh I do hope so" she purred before walking out of the bar leaving a very happy Irishman to finish his drink and find his own bed, secure in the knowledge that he would be having very nice dreams.

* * *

.

After a tense breakfast, The Crawlettes gathered in the hotel lounge where Anthony had arranged to wait for them.

"Good morning ladies. I trust you all slept well? You weren't put off by the events after the show I hope, Lady Sybil?"

Sybil murmured her polite thanks to his gallant enquiry and ignored Mary's sarcastic eye roll, which Edith did not glaring at her.

"Well, we may as well begin. Lady Mary?"

"Yes, thank you, _Sir_ Anthony" she said knowing he disliked being addressed so. "I am firmly of the opinion that our type of music, as we have built it up and as our back catalogue stands at present…well, I think it is going to be swept away by the new music coming over from America. There are performers trying rock 'n' roll out here, Tommy Steele, Cliff Richard, people like that. They are becoming very successful and I think our time is up. I would prefer to retire from this enterprise while we are still at the top. So I would urge that the next concert The Crawlettes give is their last."

Mary sat back, her argument made and, she believed, it was unanswerable.

"Lady Sybil, how do you feel about that?" Anthony turned to her.

"I haven't really kept up with all the new styles in the way Mary obviously has, but what I have heard of it...well it_ is_ very exciting. I love our music, and I think there will be fans for a long time yet, but essentially I think Mary is right. I don't want any of us to be disappointed by dwindling popularity." At the end she looked firmly at Edith, hoping that her sister understood her concern.

"Lady Edith?" Although he kept his face neutral though friendly, Anthony's voice betrayed him: it was more strained as he faced the last Crawley sister.

Mary and Sybil held their breath waiting for the objections. They didn't come.

"You're right. We should stop now."

There was a numb silence. Anthony broke it first.

"You…you aren't against the decision?"

"No."

"Really? You don't mind?" asked Sybil.

"Of course I mind. This music has been the only thing I've ever been good at. And though no one ever gave me the slightest bit of credit for writing it…not either of you, not Papa or Granny, not the fans…it saved Downton. That was its primary purpose. It's done its job. I can see that. It's hardly Bach or Beethoven! There's no tragedy in chucking it all in now. If you want to stop, I won't argue, because I won't win. As usual."

With that she got up and left.

Anthony hesitated only a second to reassure Mary and Sybil that he would make the arrangements to publicise the next concert as their last. Then he hurried after Edith. He caught up with her as she was waiting for the lift to go back to her bedroom.

"Lady Edith? Please wait. Lady Edith!"

"What is it, Anthony? I've agreed, haven't I? That's all she wanted."

"But…" The lift opened and they both got in, and Anthony lowered his voice even though they were alone.

"But you sounded so…despondent…about it. I hope you know that your work is very much appreciated by so many of the fans."

"The ones who listen to all the chord sequences? Oh there's _lots_ of those! The ones who aren't in love with either Mary or Sybil? Yes! All three of them…tucked away in some academic conservatoire in Manchester? Those ones?"

"If it weren't for you, none of this could have happened. Your sisters, both of them, are well aware of that fact. And, yes, Mary and Sybil get more fan mail. But it is you…_you_…that they write about in the music press. The people who understand what you've done aren't the sort of people who write fan mail. They write columns in the papers, and, yes, they write academic papers. You are appreciated. And if not by any of them, then by me."

The lift doors opened, but Edith didn't move. She just looked at Anthony. He was so much older…which made her feel she could trust him, that she could rely on him, that he was capable of looking after her in the way she wanted to be looked after. His age gave him a solidity that she craved. He was so much taller than her…which made her feel like a schoolgirl in front of the headmaster, and made her feel she could relax in his presence, that he would understand her weakness, when all her life she had struggled. She had had to struggle to be strong and it was wearing away at her soul. All this came out in her music, if anyone could look past the pretty faces singing it to see it.

The lift doors closed again, and Edith looked at Anthony's bright blue eyes, creased with concern at her sadness. She thought she could lose herself in those eyes for the rest of her life. And then she brought herself up short. He was much older than her; he wouldn't want to have anything to do with a self-pitying girl in her early twenties, whose one and only career option was now over. She was being self-important just thinking that Anthony wouldn't have other things to do with his time now The Crawlettes were over. She looked down, mumbled something incoherent, opened the lift doors again and stepped through, never expecting Anthony to follow. But he did.

"Lady Edith, please tell me that you won't let this prey on you. There are lots of things still open to you. You could write for films or television. They won't want _all_ of their music to be in the new style."

"You're very kind, Anthony, but the truth is, it's over. Would you write to Papa…Lord Grantham…to let him know? I don't suppose Mary's thought of that. He can't be left to think that this income stream is going to go on for much longer."

"I will write to him, but I think you'll find that the income will continue for much longer than Lady Mary thinks. There are still fans, and although they won't be able to come to live concerts, they will continue buying records and sheet music for some time. Then there's the radio royalties, and one or two other bits and pieces. The money will continue to come in for a good while yet."

"Thank you. Thank you for your support, Anthony. What…what will you do when you're no longer managing us squabbling girls?"

He smiled a sad smile.

"You weren't squabbling girls in my view, my lady. I'm not sure what I will do, but whatever it turns out to be, it won't be in the music business. Nothing can compare to The Crawlettes."

They'd reached Edith's room. They wavered, and then Anthony said he should go to see about fixing things for the last concert, two days and fifty miles away, and he left her watching him walk away from her.

* * *

.

_**Thank you so much for continuing to read. This started out as a single chapter for the STEAMM day, but it's taken on a life of its own. I hope you like it.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**I am horribly behind with...well, everything, but especially my reviews. There are so many wonderful Andith stories at the moment, and they are all so fabulous, it's like having a feast after a long period of famine (aka Downton Abbey, series 4!). I hope to return to the fandom soon.**_

_**Meanwhile, I hope to finish this story off, and the Austen pastiche before starting on the next Andith story which I've begun! Yes, I'm obsessed and proud of it! Long Live Andith!**_

* * *

_._

The Crawlettes' final concert was to be in York. They hadn't planned it that way; Mary's insistence that this concert be their last had forced this previously chosen venue upon them as their final one, but it somehow seemed quite appropriate. Their first concert had been in York too, almost two years ago now. At the time they had wanted to raise a little money to start digging Downton's finances out of the hole into which they had fallen thanks to Robert's unwise investments in Canada. They hadn't meant to start a phenomenon which included national fame for themselves. Their success had taken them by surprise.

It had been the best business decision of Mary's life to hire Anthony to be their Manager straight after that first concert which he had attended as an ordinary punter out of curiosity, to support a local cause, and for something to do one quiet evening. He had had some experience in the music business from before the war, but hadn't found a place for himself in the post-war world, and he had drifted back to his ancestral home without really thinking about it. All the land was rented out to farmers. He only had to think about the house, and his housekeeper and caretaker husband and wife team were more than adequate for that. He still tinkered with codes and ciphers; he kept in touch with friends in the armed services and did a little work for them here and there. Mostly he sat in his library pretending to read, wondering where his life had gone so wrong, why he was so very lonely.

Mary had contacted him the day after that first concert once she had managed to get away from the press and media attention. Anthony was a bit startled to hear her on the telephone.

"Sir Anthony, I believe you used to work for HMV before the war?" she asked without preamble.

"I did, Lady Mary. I was a producer for them. Just a gentleman amateur really."

"Well, I need someone who understands what these music people want and how they want it, at the same time as having a good idea of our family sensibilities. After all, we have a position to maintain! We're not…Bobby Soxers!" Anthony stifled a chuckle at her outdated language. "Granny already thinks that the world has fallen down around our ears, and Papa is outraged at both how little money we charged for the tickets yesterday , but also at the amount of fuss that is being caused, without realising that the one outrage contradicts the other. I did see you in York last night, didn't I? You do know what I'm talking about?"

"I do indeed, Lady Mary. You and your sisters are the next music sensation as far as the punters are concerned and everyone wants to be associated with you. That's what _they_ want. You, however, are ladies with a standing in the county and at court. That, of course, is part of the attraction of your group. You must not give in or spread yourselves too thinly: you must preserve your uniqueness. It will help you in the long run and certainly keep your mystique and your prices high. I would be very happy to help in any way I can."

Mary thought. "Clearly, I came to the right person."

That night, he was at Downton dining with the family and making plans, and enthusing over Edith's music. In the months that followed, he fell in love with Edith herself as well. He admired her songs, but he saw how much she felt overshadowed by her sisters, even before The Crawlettes became an overnight success. He felt it was unwarranted and unfair that she considered herself less than Mary or Sybil, even as her self-deprecation tugged at his heart and made him love her all the more.

His mind had convinced him it was all for naught though. This was the end of the 1950s. Everything had changed. The war had swept away the last vestiges of the Victorian and Edwardian class systems and the Empire was crumbling, if not already crumbled. There had been a bit of a counter-revolution under Churchill, Eden, and Macmillan when things seemed to go backward in the face of Attlee's reforms. But the progress was too strong. Even presentation at court and debutante's balls had been abolished the year before.

In the social climate prior to the war, he might have had the courage to at least declare himself to Edith. Now, he was decidedly too old to be a suitable husband for her, no matter how much he loved her. And so, he kept silent.

* * *

.

Tom drove the three sisters in his capable manner, not too fast, not too slowly, just carefully and competently, on the main road from Manchester to York. Anthony was driving himself in his rather old fashioned Rolls, as usual. Edith would have preferred to ride with him, rather than endure this uneasy silence as the four of them chased their own thoughts around their heads.

Tom pulled into the front entrance of The Royal York Hotel. As they alighted from the car, one or two flashbulbs went off, a testament to the patience of a couple of local newshounds. Anthony was already in the hotel lobby, with the manager of the hotel hopping excitedly by his side.

"It is, _indeed_, an honour to have you staying with us, my ladies! If there is _anything_ I…we can do to make your stay _even_ more comfortable, _please_ do not hesitate to ask for it."

Mary was very tempted just to roll her eyes, but the experience of the last two years had taught her that most people meant very well even if their awe made them make fools of themselves in the presence of three young ladies who just happen to be a well-known group. Mary would have been happier if people acted this strangely simply because their father was an earl.

Anthony accompanied the three of them and the hotel manager and some boys carrying luggage up to their rooms, fending off as much of the attention as he could.

"Now, Mr Stonethwaite, I really must insist that the ladies are allowed some privacy for a rest after their journey. Yes, I'm sure they will be willing to sign autographs for the staff in due course. But for now, please…"

Anthony closed the door behind him decisively, leaving the girls alone.

"One more…just one" Mary sighed dropping down into a comfy armchair, "and then we can all go back to normal!"

"I always forget how tiring it can be being constantly nice to everyone" said Sybil.

"I don't believe that of you. You're nice all the time" observed Mary.

Edith was looking out of the window. She had kept very quiet since the meeting the day before. There didn't seem to be anything more to be said.

The door opened again and Anthony returned.

"Well, that's him just about sent on his way. He seems even more keen than his staff to have you here!" he smiled.

"He's probably got the hots for Mary!" quirked Sybil, earning her the delayed eye-roll.

"I've got a programme for tomorrow here" Anthony said, laying three pieces of paper on the table. "I'm really sorry it's going to be so busy, but it is the last one. There's a lot of interest, and that means sales. I know you want to go out on a high." He looked meaningfully at Mary daring her to disagree, which she didn't.

"Thank you, Anthony. We really are most grateful" said Sybil. Edith said nothing, but looked nervously up at him and then at the floor again.

"Yes, well, I must let you rest. Today is all yours to do as you wish, but beware! You're on home ground. If you leave your room, let alone the hotel, you will be recognised and mobbed. I'll arrange for some people to help if you do want to go out."

"I don't think that will be necessary, Sir Anthony, thank you" said Mary.

"As you wish, my lady. I'll be in the next suite if you need anything." He looked once more at Edith, and left.

* * *

.

Mary was taking a nap, Edith was still as a statue, staring out of the window at the cityscape so well-known to her, and Sybil was reading the schedule for tomorrow when there was a knock at the door.

Sybil answered, and smiled.

"Hello Tom."

"Lady Sybil. Er…I know you don't have to be anywhere today. I wondered if you might like a drive out to the countryside, for a bit of relaxation?"

His eyes said much more than his words.

Sybil looked back at Edith.

"Will you let Mary and Anthony know, if they ask?"

"Yes. Go on. Have fun." Edith was not blind. She had seen how her younger sister and Tom looked at each other when they didn't think the other was looking. It made her both happy and sad. Glad for Sybil's sake, but there's nothing like another's happiness to put one's own sadness into stark relief. The Crawlettes were coming to an end. Sybil and Tom would get together, despite anything the family said. Sybil had that charm and force of personality. Mary…didn't she have some fan who turned out to be a hotshot lawyer? That would please Papa and there would be no objection to them becoming a couple.

Alone among her sisters, she was The Crawlette who could go out without being recognised, because no one ever noticed her. Alone among her sisters, she would not have anyone to comfort her when all this was over. Anthony…_oh Anthony! If only I was as old as I feel, you might consider marrying me. As it is…I don't suppose you'll ever think about me again after tomorrow. Anthony...  
_

* * *

.

Tom drove out of the hotel garage and of York with ease. They followed little lanes, keeping by the Ouse, and stopping at a particularly pretty set of small waterfalls.

They walked for a bit, talking of nothing, meaning everything.

"What do you think you will do once tomorrow's over?" he asked, scared of her answer.

"What I'm not going to do is go back to being an upper class leech on society" she retorted with spirit.

"I never said you were!"

"No, you didn't. But The Angry Young Men do, and they're right! My family…and people like us…we should not take anything for granted. Look at Sir Anthony! He's as landed gentry as the Crawleys, but he finds useful things to do in this new world. And so shall I!"

She was both angry and proud, and in Tom's eyes, magnificent.

"What kind of work?"

She giggled as though sharing a joke.

"I don't know! What I'd really like is to become a clothes designer and have a shop in Carnaby Street or the King's Road. The Crawlettes thing will help me sell, at least to begin with. Hopefully people will buy the clothes because they like them eventually once they get known."

"You'll be brilliant, I know you will!"

Her face became sadder, more serious.

"What will you do, Tom?"

"Look for another chauffeur position, I suppose. I could come to London with you and you could give me a reference…" They both grinned at the idea. "…or…I might get married."

Sybil just looked at him, not trusting her ears.

"Lady Sybil, you are the most wonderful, beautiful, incredible woman I've ever met, and it would make me the happiest man in the world if you…would…marry…me….I love you, Sybil."

She still stared into his blue eyes, and he began to think she was trying to find kind words of rejection. Then her face burst into joyous smiles like the sun breaking from behind clouds.

"Oh Tom! Yes, yes, yes! I'd love to. I love you too! Oh Tom!"

Overwhelmed, it was all he could do to reach his arms around her and kiss her. Between kisses and laughter and smiles and happiness, they ignored time passing until it began to get dark and they were forced to return to the hotel in York.


	5. Chapter 5

Most of the next day whirled past the girls. There were photo calls and snatched meals. There was a technical rehearsal, and a press conference. Autographs were signed. Until at last, the three sisters were in their dressing rooms putting the finishing touches to their costumes and make-up in that tense last half hour before curtain up.

"You're in a very chirpy mood" observed Mary of Sybil.

"I'm going to enjoy this last concert. No use moping!"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you had something lined up for afterwards."

"Perhaps there is. I thought I might set up as a clothes designer. I've always loved really good clothes, and eccentric fashion. I'm sure that will be fun, and even if it doesn't make as much money as this, I will still want to give it my best shot."

"Good for you, Sybil. Well done!" It was the most words anyone had heard from Edith in almost a week.

"What about you, Edith?" asked Mary.

Edith looked at her sister wondering if she was building to another put-down.

"Nothing. I have nothing planned, apart from perhaps a week asleep."

"Amen to that!" agreed Mary.

After a polite knock, Anthony entered.

"All well here, my ladies?"

"Yes."

"Yes, thanks."

"Anything I can get you? For now or later?"

"No; you're too kind." Mary stopped herself rolling her eyes in time and instead smiled at the gentle older man.

"There is one thing, Anthony." Sybil took him back outside.

"I wonder what that's all about?"

"Tom, I shouldn't wonder" answered Edith, not looking round.

"Tom? The driver Tom?"

"Yes. Please tell me you've seen how fond they are of each other?"

"But…Tom?"

"How disappointing of you, Mary. This is the fifties – almost the sixties! If they love each other…why not?"

Sybil returned and gave a satisfied sigh, before checking her make-up for the final time.

Mary came over and put her hand on Sybil's shoulder, looking at her in the mirror.

"Are you really alright, dear?"

"Yes, thank you, Mary." Her smile was bright. It made Mary feel that happiness had walked past her and out of her life while she was 'doing her duty' by Downton.

Anthony's head appeared again around the door.

"Well, this is it! Break a leg and enjoy it. This is musical history in the making. And I've sorted that out, Lady Sybil."

"Thank you, Anthony."

* * *

.

The backing band began, the curtains parted, and The Crawlettes started their last ever concert. Before she had even sung a single note, Mary was clutched by excitement, fear, happiness, nerves, and a thousand other emotions all at the same time.

In the middle of the very front row, sat Matthew Crawley, smiling at her. Sybil smiled privately to herself.

Then their professionalism overtook them and they started singing.

* * *

.

The Stage Door was mobbed. The theatre management had never seen anything like it. Ushers were press-ganged into being crowd-managers to try to impose something akin to order on the excited and emotional fans. Mary, Sybil, and Edith signed autographs and accepted flowers. It was almost midnight by the time they had made everyone happy with chit-chat, and they were down to the last few die-hard admirers who had waited over an hour to talk to their heroines.

Last of all was Matthew Crawley.

"You must have a constitution of iron, Matthew, to hang around so long!" smiled Mary, her pleasure in his company so very evident.

"I had a ticket to your last concert but I had to miss it because I was very involved in a case and that was the day of the hearing. Even though I didn't have a ticket to this one, when I heard it was going to be your last…well, how could I not be here? I came up on the off-chance I could get in." His blue eyes were burning at her in the lamplight.

"Matthew, the theatre's been sold out for weeks. But you were sat right at the front?"

"Yes, thanks to your sister and your manager."

"What?"

Matthew's grin was full of gratitude.

"Sybil asked Anthony to sort out a seat for me. He gave me his own ticket."

Mary was stumped. Sybil and Anthony knew what would make this last concert the best possible for her and arranged it. She didn't know what to think or say.

"Um…I'm getting cold. Come back-stage" and she led the way back to her dressing room. After offering him a cup of something hot, she noticed that Sybil and Edith quickly packed up and left, each saying they had something very important to attend to.

"I like your sisters."

"Try living with them."

"They can't be that bad. You've been on the road for two years; it would be surprising if little cracks hadn't appeared in your friendship."

"You are more understanding than I could every hope to be. But you're right, of course. We have learned more about each other in the last two years than in the previous eighteen put together."

"How's Downton going to function without The Crawlettes bankrolling it?" asked Matthew, suddenly.

"I think we've raised enough capital to pull Papa out of the hole he created with the Canadian investments. He'll just have to be more careful in future."

"Do you think that's likely?"

"Hardly. Papa isn't the world's business master-brain!"

"Then perhaps we could talk about something else? How was the last concert, I mean, the one I missed?"

"It wasn't our best. We'd argued about whether we should be calling it a day, and…well, my muse wasn't there to inspire me."

"I told you, I had a very important hearing. Would you like to hear about it?"

"If it isn't a murder or something really scintillating, I am likely to be asleep before the jury is sworn in."

"It was a civil case, and desperately boring in itself. I was…" Matthew paused, savouring the moment; he'd been working towards this for over a year and had staked all his hopes on it "…I was representing a group of British investors who lost a lot of money when they were mis-sold investments in a sham company in Canada. I argued that they should be covered by law because the risks were kept from them. I won the case."

Mary stared at him. "Matthew?" she breathed.

"The investors will now receive at least ninety-five per cent of their money back in compensation, seized from the company's directors' own assets…your father among them."

"Matthew…"

"You see why I had to miss your concert, although it was a huge sacrifice. The outcome of the case has given me the confidence to believe that perhaps I might…that a mere lawyer could..." He stopped gabbling and took a deep breath. "I have the courage to ask the Earl of Grantham for his daughter's hand in marriage…if she will have me."

"Oh Matthew! Of course I'll have you! I love you! I would have said 'yes' even if you hadn't done this marvellous thing. Oh Matthew!"

Matthew, overcome with elation at his triumph and Mary's reaction, boldly walked up to her and took her in his arms. He'd never known such joy. This goddess of a woman, so seemingly aloof and cold, had melted towards him, welcomed him into her life, and now had agreed to marry him. Happiness didn't begin to describe it.

"When shall we tell your family?" he asked.

"About the money or our engagement?"

"Both" he laughed.

"As soon as you like. We are doing home to Downton tomorrow morning. Why don't you stay at the hotel tonight and come down with us?"

"As my lady wishes."

* * *

.

After packing all her things, Sybil really did have something urgent to go to, even if she also wanted to let Mary and Matthew have some privacy.

Edith didn't.

She stood outside the door trying to think where she could go to wait for her sister to be ready, and heard the delighted squeals that came from the dressing room.

_As usual_, she thought, _I am the one left out. Stop it, Edith! That's just self-pity. You should have settled for some puppy-eyed young man, and then you could have been engaged by now as well. You are only alone because you chose to fall for the most marvellous, magnificent, proper, grown-up man you'd ever met, or are likely to meet, someone who would never, ever look twice at you in a hundred years because you are such a failure compared to him. He helped win the War. You wrote a few catchy tunes._

Sybil walked past with Tom in tow.

"When she's ready, we'll be waiting in the car by the stage door, okay Edith?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I'll tell her."

Sybil, her feet not touching the ground in her joy, for once didn't notice the tears in Edith's eyes.


End file.
